Roasting Nuts

The fire cackles, spitting flames consume the pit as sparks are spewed in all directions desiring to strike a fire of their own. A basket dangles over the fire, yet to be filled, collecting heat for the roasting that is to ensue. Time to prepare the almonds. On an old, weather beaten log, I sit. Its tangled arms thrusting from the sides reaching for some unknown afncied item. A rather large bowl sits with me, making my lap its resting place. Inside the bowl is my batter, concocted from the freshest ingredients. By the freshest I mean hand picked, each carefully selected to produce the finest product. Weeks have been spent wandering this blasted forest, searching and plucking; plucking and searching. Awe the things one does to make a buck.

A long apprehensive journey builds to this tantalizing night. The finished product, so deliciously appatizing, won't get to settle in this yearning belly. It has to be bagged and sold; sold to those who know nothing of the effort and care donated to such a seemingly simple product. If only they knew, years have been lost as this old soul saught out these finest of ingredients, in order to manufacture this commodity.

And so my concocting begins. I dump a large lump some of almonds in to the bowl atop my lap. The cinnamon carmel crystalizes on to each individual almond, preparing them for an explosion of taste that bombs the consumers mouth. The first batch is ready. Time to start Roasting nuts. Into the basket the pour. The flames suddenly sting the basket as carmel makes the fire sizzle and pop. I wait. The almonds start to crisp, turning a light brown. They are ready

But no, these are mine! I can't go on giving my nuts to these people that I don't even know! I shall keep them! So into the forest I go. There I shall dwell. Surviving off these freshest of ingredients roasting the finest nuts this world has yet to see!

Roasting my Almonds

Of ingredients so fine

Mine they are, all mine